


the better version of our past

by youareoldfatherwilliam



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Dad Zuko, F/M, Fluff, Gen, musings on life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 22:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18860071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youareoldfatherwilliam/pseuds/youareoldfatherwilliam
Summary: Zuko takes a moment to reflect on his life.





	the better version of our past

**Author's Note:**

> So, this little ficlet scene wouldn't leave me alone. It can be read as a stand-alone work, or as a companion piece to my other fic, the sum of all my broken parts. I still haven't decided if I want to collect that one, this one, and any other in-that-universe fics I may write into a series, but I've decided to just post this as is and see where life goes. 
> 
> The work title is from "Life", by Sleeping at Last, which coincidentally is a perfect song to go listen to while reading this, if anyone's interested.

When he wakes, it is dark outside.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but it had been a long day. Katara had gone into labor very early in the morning; he remembers the initial _panic-joy-terror_ he’d felt. All day long, he hadn’t left her side as the nurses bustled about; as Gran-Gran coached her granddaughter through the birth of their first child; as the rest of their family sat outside in the hallway, eagerly awaiting news. Katara had squeezed his hand so tightly that he thinks something may have broken, screaming both curses and obscenities at him, and it had been the most surreal experience of his life.

Of course, that achievement had been topped the instant his daughter was born.

Katara had beckoned him closer, from where he’d been hunched over the bed; he’d scrambled to press his cheek to hers, hardly daring to believe the beauty of the little life in between them.

He gets up from the bed in the nursery that he’d apparently fallen asleep in, after all the chaos. Katara stirs next to him, but does not wake. He makes his way over to the crib where his child, _his baby daughter_ , has fallen asleep after her dramatic entrance into the world.

Hardly daring to believe it, he strips his robes off, remaining only in a pair of pants, and picks her up as gently as possible. She squirms a little, and he presses her to his chest, making his way over to the nearby windowsill to sit with her. She is tiny, so tiny, smaller even than the red starburst scar on his chest that hasn’t faded since the day he’d gotten it. He kisses her forehead and she makes a scrunched-up face in her sleep.

She has her mother’s untamable curly hair, though it is black like his, and her skin is dark like Katara’s, and softer than the petals of moonpeach blossoms. Her eyes are closed now, but they are golden, the same color as his own. He doesn’t know what element she will bend, or if she will even bend an element at all, but it doesn’t matter. He has loved her since before he knew her; now that she’s here, he didn’t know it was possible, but he loves her even more. He had never thought he’d be here; that he could have this.

Earlier that day, in front of their family, he had given her a name: _Katsumi_.

She gives a little snort, in her sleep, and he can’t help but grin. Already he knows, he will spoil her; not to the point of being a brat, of course, but she will grow up his little princess. He doesn’t know how on earth he’s going to be able to say no to her, when the need arises; but he will. He loves her too much to not want to raise her right; to give her the childhood he never had.

Even as he sits there, it makes him question Ozai more and more. Early in his reign, however, his father had been executed as judged by a Council of Nations; so Ozai is not here to be questioned. He wishes now, that he could go up to the man; shake him, demand that Ozai tell him why he’d never treated him like a son. He wants to know how his father could have looked at him, just a baby, and wanted to throw him off a roof; how his father could have beaten him to the point of drawing blood, growing up; how his father could have burned half his face off.

But Ozai is not here, and looking down at Katsumi, he supposes that it doesn’t truly matter. He is not Ozai, and he will never be Ozai. Katara has drilled that into him; helped him to believe in himself, along with help from the rest of their family; and he loves his wife more than he can ever say, for everything she does, everything she is.

And now, here is his daughter, their daughter; the best parts of them both, and he almost feels that love is too small a word. He raises his hand and gently brushes it across her cheek, wiping away the drool that has begun to trail from her mouth. She smiles a little, her mouth opening and closing as she talks to herself in a language only she can understand.

He can’t help it then; he feels he needs to introduce himself, to say something to the little miracle in his arms. “Hello, princess. My little princess…Agni, you’re so precious”.

Across the room in the bed, Katara turns over in her sleep and he lowers his voice, not wanting to wake her up. “I’m your father, though I guess you already knew that. Or maybe you didn’t. I don’t actually know how much babies can understand, but I’m rambling now, aren’t I? Well anyways, yes, I’m your father, here, and my name is Zuko”.

She shakes her head, and he almost laughs aloud, but he keeps going. “Yes, that really is my name. And yours is Katsumi, but I guess I told you that earlier? You’re probably laughing at me now. You’ll be just like your mother, won’t you? Running circles around me, and I won’t be able to keep up”.

“I love you, sweetheart. I just want you to know that, even if you can’t understand me right now. I love you, so much, and I’m always going to love you, no matter who you are or who you become”.

In his arms, his daughter makes a babbling noise, and golden eyes finally blink open. They move around the room, unfocused, before coming to look into his own. It’s the first time that she has ever looked at him, only him, and he holds his breath. A tiny, chubby arm waves around for a bit, before pointing at his face, and he remembers the scar.

But Katsumi doesn’t look frightened, only curious. Of course, she is far too young to even understand what a scar is, but a part of him is still relieved that she isn’t scared. He is not ashamed of the mark, not in the way he once was, but it helps to know that his baby daughter doesn’t seem to hate it.

Eventually, her arm makes a fist, and it starts hitting his chest, directly over his heart. He rearranges himself so that her head is better secured, and he moves his right arm so that he can touch her little fist to his. “You’re going to be a fighter, aren’t you? I can tell; you’ll have your mother’s warrior spirit, and you’ll be brave, and probably just as stubborn”.

She lets out a breath and gives what sounds like a snorty giggle, and his own face lights up in response. He can tell she is tired though; her eyes are no longer focused, and her face is beginning to scrunch up as though she might scream. He doesn’t want to accidentally wake Katara; but he has no idea how to soothe a crying baby.

Heart pounding, he remembers one of the lullabies his mother had sang to him. He doesn’t remember the words, but he remembers the tune; as quietly as he can under his breath, he starts to hum. As he hums, he watches her; her face stops scrunching and her breathing begins to even out. He keeps quietly singing the music until she is fast asleep again, until her eyes are closed and no longer watching him.

He gives one glance at the full moon outside the window before slowly standing. Gently, he places her back in her crib, smoothing the blankets around her. He leans over to press a kiss to her forehead. “Sleep well, my princess”.

Stretching, he moves back over to the bed, not bothering to put his robes back on, and slides underneath the covers. Katara moves closer to him in her sleep, almost as if on instinct. He pulls her closer, into his chest, and rubs his hand over her still-rounded belly, placing a kiss on her head as well.

In no time at all, he falls asleep.


End file.
